


Sugar Sugar

by lovelyauras



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angie Martinelli - Freeform, Anniversary, Cartinelli - Freeform, Cooking, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Peggy Carter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyauras/pseuds/lovelyauras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m so pleased you called me, Ms. Carter. Now, tell me, what is this mysterious, all-important endeavour?”</p>
<p>“I need your help cooking something.”</p>
<p>Jarvis looked taken aback. “That’s all? Truly?”</p>
<p>“Don’t be disappointed, it’s still for a very important cause.”</p>
<p>“And what might that be?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Angie and I’s one-year anniversary,” Peggy said, blushing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Sugar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProfessorX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorX/gifts).



> This is a Christmas present for my best friend Lyssa. Love ya, darling!

“Hello, Mr. Jarvis? May I ask a favor of you?”

 

“I would be delighted, Ms. Carter! At such a reasonable hour, too! What adventure are we embarking on today? Are we bringing down a mob?”

 

“Well, no, although-”

 

“Maybe it’s a threat on the life of your director?”

 

“No, not qui-”

 

“Pity. Oh, perhaps there is a political scandal that needs solving? Will we need disguises?”

 

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but-”

 

“You know, I have been practising my American accent-”

 

“ _Mr. Jarvis_ , this endeavour will not be of the usual sort _at all_. In fact, you know more about the subject at hand than I do. Please come down to the house at the first opportunity. Be dressed to get messy.”

 

“So... we don’t get to blow anything up?”

 

“Hopefully not. I’ll see you soon.” Without waiting for a reply, Peggy hung up the phone. Rubbing her temples, she sat in a chair and tried not to panic as she waited.

  
  


When the doorbell chimed Peggy nearly tripped in her rush to open the door. She took a deep breath and smiled at her friend in the threshold. Mr. Jarvis, still ignorant of the mission at hand, look unbearably excited. Stepping inside, he removed his hat and clasped his hands together.

 

“I’m so pleased you called me, Ms. Carter. Now, tell me, what is this mysterious, all-important endeavour?”

 

“I need your help cooking something.”

 

Jarvis looked taken aback. “That’s all? Truly?”

 

“Don’t be disappointed, it’s still for a very important cause.”

 

“And what might that be?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Angie and I’s one-year anniversary,” Peggy said, blushing.

 

“Ah, that would explain the note of panic in your voice over the telephone.” He smirked at her, the nerve of him.

 

“I’m not--I wasn’t panicking--I just-” The eyebrow again. “All right, I’m panicking. I just want everything to be perfect. Will you help me?”

 

“Always,” Jarvis said, and grinned. “Now, what did you have in mind?”

 

As she dragged him to the kitchen, Peggy explained from the beginning. Last year for Thanksgiving, Angie had brought Peggy to her mother’s. It was an incredibly Italian affair, and it seemed like there couldn’t possibly be anyone with the surname Martinelli that wasn’t in attendance. Nearly everyone spoke with a near impossible-to-understand accent, and there were a lot of hand gestures and storytelling, and the food was the best thing that Peggy had had since Christmas the year before at Howard’s. While at the happy event, Angie’s grandmother had mentioned that while Angie loved Thanksgiving dinner _pasta is the true way to that girl’s heart_. “So here we are,” Peggy finished, hands on her hips.

 

Jarvis bit his lip. “I’m assuming you brought me here for help in the pasta making process in particular, then?”

 

“Well, all of it, really. I’m a rubbish cook.”

 

“That I did know. How you managed to burn the _water_ for tea the last time I was here, I will never figure out. But, alas,” he rolled up his sleeves, “let’s get to work. It’s eleven o’ six and Ms. Martinelli will return at...”

 

“Six o’ clock.”

 

“That gives us approximately seven hours to complete the meal. Now, I believe one of Mrs. Stark’s old cook books should be in here somewhere... ha!” Jarvis thumbed through the tabs on the side muttering, “Pasta, sauce, salad, pasta, ah, sauce! Hm...” Peggy peered over his shoulder and her eyes widened at the long list of ingredients. She rushed off to fetch a pen and pad of paper.

 

She started copying the list, skipping the ingredients she knew were already in the house. Jarvis straightened up. “Will this do? It’s one of the simpler pasta recipes I see here. Will store bought sauce do or shall we make some ourselves?”

 

Peggy bit her lip. Seeing her face, Jarvis said, “Homemade it is. Only the best for Ms. Martinelli.” He knew her too well. “I believe you have the initial ingredients to make the pasta dough. Can you manage that while I go to the store? Don’t look at me like that, it’s very, very simple. The instructions are right here. Look, all it requires is flour, salt, and a few eggs. I won’t be more than an hour.” Peggy was sure that she still looked very concerned. Jarvis gave a light laugh when he turned around again and saw her. “Ms. Carter, I have seen you do incredible things without an ounce of worry, but this is what makes you nervous? I’m sure that Ms. Martinelli will appreciate this meal no matter what comes of it.”

 

“Yes, yes, I know,” She looked at him heading toward the door, “I’ll have you know that this,” she gestured to her own face, “is what you look like when you assist me with _my_ work. Like a frightened fish out of water. But still with that overeager grin on your face.” Even from behind she could tell that he was smiling. He was enjoying her discomfort far too much.

 

“Mr. Jarvis?” He turned, “Thank you.” He tipped his hat with a grin and then was gone.

  
  


Flour, salt, and eggs stared up at Peggy from the counter top. She cracked her knuckles and gave herself a shake. “You can do this, Carter,” she muttered as she sprinkled the flour on the counter. Well, she _meant_ to sprinkle it. It really resembled a small mountain. “Damn,” Peggy murmured as she tried to push the flour back into the bag. Despite the apron, she was wearing quite a lot of it now. No matter, she could change later. A bit of flour fell from her hair as she turned toward the recipe book.

 

“Oh _damn_.” The flour was supposed to be in a pile. She dumped it out again, but this time she hollowed out the center of it like the book said to. But how big was the crater meant to be? Did it matter? She decided to make it rather small. Then for the eggs. The soft _crack_ of the shells was slightly relaxing. Peggy could see why Angie did this for fun.

 

Wait, no she couldn’t. The crater wasn’t big enough for the third egg. What now? Deciding that the third egg was probably necessary, Peggy gingerly tried to widen the flour mountain. But then the egg was everywhere. She frowned at her yolk-covered hands and consulted the recipe book again. _Step 3: add a dash of salt._

 

At least the part was simple. Peggy pinched the small white crystals from the bowl. How much was a dash? That one had been rather small. She added another large pinch. Maybe another? Just one more, for good measure. Okay, two. That seemed like enough. Then the easy part, the kneading.

 

This part was much more fun. It was almost like punching someone in the gut. After she was satisfied she wrapped the soft dough in cling film. Now it had to set for at least 30 minutes. What could one do in the space of 30 minutes? Not clean up the kitchen, surely. Besides, it would probably get even dirtier later. Eventually Peggy decided to prepare the dining room.

 

Just as she was putting the finishing touches on the table (more red roses), she heard the front door open. “Oh thank God,” she muttered.

 

“I’m back!” called Jarvis.

  
  


At long last. Everything was ready, with half an hour until Angie was meant to return. Just enough time to change and freshen up.

 

The dress that Peggy had chosen was bright red. The last time she had worn it was in a military bar in Europe. She had been in love with a different blond then. Peggy carefully slipped it on and chose her lipstick, taking care not to put on her sleep-inducing shade. That had already happened too many times. With one final look in the mirror, Peggy made her way to the living room to wait for Angie.

 

Peggy scurried around the room, double checking every little thing. Candles were lit, roses in place, food finished and hot. What was missing? Of course, the music! Peggy had just finished tuning the radio when she heard the front door open.

 

“English? I’m home.”

 

Peggy couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Angie’s voice. She hurried to the foyer to welcome her best girl.

 

“Hello, darling!” She kissed Angie on the cheek. She rushed before Angie had the chance to open her mouth again, “Happy Anniversary! I wanted to surprise you, so hurry and get changed for dinner. Wait, no, I’ll lead you, I don’t want you to see it yet. Close your eyes.” Angie raised her eyebrows but obliged. Peggy put her hands around her waist and directed her around the furniture.

 

“Whatever it is, it smells great, Peg. Careful, don’t run me into the couch!”

 

“This is the door,” Peggy kissed her cheek again, “I’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

 

“Whatever you say, sugar. Happy Anniversary,” Angie turned around, with her eyes still closed and planted a small kiss on Peggy’s lips. Then she turned the knob and walked into their room.

 

After the door shut, Peggy sighed. She hoped the Angie liked everything. She and Jarvis had worked tirelessly through the afternoon. He made the sauce, which she of course tasted. It was delicious. As was the baguette Jarvis had bought, fresh from the baker. Their best wine was on the table, a 1900 red Sangiovese. Peggy was especially proud of the pasta itself. She, with Jarvis’s directions, had rolled it using the machine they found in the cupboard. After the fettucine had been successfully cooked, Jarvis bid her adieu. Then, with a final thank you, Peggy was left on her own.

 

“Hey Peg? Is this alright?”

 

The door opened, and Peggy involuntarily drew in a breath. Angie looked stunning, but then, she always looked stunning. “You look perfect, love,” Peggy breathed, realizing that Angie was still waiting on an answer.

 

“You sure? It’s not too simple for whatever you got planned?” The dress was an emerald green color, and even though it was not particularly intricate, it looked like it was made to fit Angie. It even matched her eyes.

 

“Darling, you look dazzling,” Peggy was still slightly breathless, but that seemed to happen almost every time she saw Angie. She was truly a sight to behold.

 

The blonde blushed, “Aw, you’re embarassin’ me, English. You know I can’t keep it together when pretty women compliment me.”

 

“That’s why I keep doing it. I can’t have you getting away from me,” Peggy joked. She offered her arm to Angie. “Shall we?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Angie said with a playful curtsy, and took Peggy’s arm.

 

“Ah ah ah! Eyes closed,” Peggy tutted. Angie rolled her eyes, but once again followed instructions. Together they walked along the hallway and into the dining room. “All right, you can open now.”

 

Angie opened her eyes and her lips parted in amazement. “ _Inamorata_ ,” she whispered, “you shouldn’t have. This is too much, you shouldn’t have.”

 

There were roses and candles everywhere. Peggy had covered every spare surface in them. Red, pink, white. They were Angie’s favorite, after all.

 

“Too much for you? Of course it isn’t. You like it then?”

 

Angie looked at her in disbelief. “I love it, English. I can’t believe you set this up all by yourself. It looks beautiful, and I can’t wait to taste whatever I was smellin’ earlier.”

 

“Well,” Peggy said, “it wasn’t _all_ my doing. Mr. Jarvis helped me quite a bit.”

 

“Of course. Remind me to give Mr. Fancy a free slice of pie the next time he comes to the diner.”

 

Angie was still looking around as Peggy lead her to the table and drew out her chair for her. She nodded her thanks. “This is really something else, Peg. I feel like I should give you your present now.”

 

“My present?”

 

“Yeah, your present! You didn’t think I was just gonna grace you with my company, did ya?” Angie smiled at her, “I’mma go get it.”

 

She returned from their room moments later. “I hid it in the bottom of my sheet music folder. Happy Anniversary, _cara_.” She handed over a small box with a white ribbon on it

 

Peggy pulled gently on the ribbon and opened the box, “Oh, Angie. It’s beautiful.” It was a jeweled brooch in a flower pattern, with pearls scattered around the small diamonds. They glinted in the candlelight brilliantly.

 

“Here, let me put in on ya. I know it’s a bit fancy for everyday, but it seems more like you than a necklace or bracelet. You like it?”

 

Peggy smiled at her. “It’s perfect, darling, I love it,” She took Angie’s hands, “and I love you.” There was that smile again. Peggy would never see enough of it. She carefully pinned the brooch on her dress.

 

“I love you too, Peggy. Now, let’s eat! I’m starving.”

  
  


The first course passed without a hitch. The wine was delicious, the salad was lovely. Peggy and Angie talked about all the auditions Angie had been having, about Peggy’s recent adventures in the office (those that weren’t classified, that is). Everything was perfect.

 

Then came the pasta.

 

Peggy nervously watched Angie take her first bite. Angie’s eyes widened and she sputtered a bit. Coughing, she took a gulp of wine. Shaking herself, she smiled earnestly at Peggy, “The sauce is really nice, Peg,” she coughed again, “but, uh, and you know I love you _cara_ , you might wanna taste this.”

 

Worriedly, Peggy took a bite of the pasta she had worked so, so hard on. “Oh! Crikey, what the bloody hell?” It was unbearably sweet. “How did that happen? I tried to follow the directions exactly?” It was inedible. The night was ruined. “Angie, I’m so sorry, I tried so hard, I just wanted our anniversary to be perfect and I know you work so hard and-” Peggy couldn’t help but ramble. How had she messed up so badly? She never screwed up _this_ poorly. She had no idea how to handle it.

 

“Peg, really-”

 

“I’m genuinely so sorry-”

 

“Really, honey, it’s fine-”

 

“It’s not fine, I-”

 

“English, you don’t nee-”

 

“But I’ve screwed it all up and-”

 

“ _Peggy_ ,” Angie got up and held Peggy’s hands. She pecked her on the lips. “It’s fine, English. Look at all this,” she gestured around the room, “do you really think I’m gonna be that upset about some fettuccine? So what if you used sugar instead of salt? You still tried. Everything else has been delicious.”

 

“But it was meant to be flawless. You deserve that,” Peggy looked down at their clasped hands.

 

“So do you. But I still make mistakes. Would you hold those against me? And even though we beat ourselves up about it, we still love each other, right? Of course we do. I’m never gonna to fault you with being too ambitious, Peg. It’s part of the reason I love you. Not everything is gonna work out every single time,” Angie kissed her again.

 

Peggy sighed, “I just wanted-”

 

“Ah, no! I don’t want to hear that. If you’ve got nothing else to say, tell me you love me. You love me, right, Peg?”

 

“Of course I love you.”

 

“Then you’ll let this go. I don’t want you to be upset on our anniversary. You love me?”

 

Peggy rolled her eyes, “I love you.”

 

“I love you too. Now, can we skip to dessert?”

 

“Hm, we might need to give it a few minutes. Jarvis timed it perfectly so that the soufflé would be done when we finished...” Peggy trailed off with a small grin, “I wonder if there’s anything else we could possibly do to fill the time...”

 

“Oh, English, I didn’t mean that kind of dessert! Here, I love this song. Let’s dance,” And with that, Angie pulled Peggy up by the arm and lead her to an open area of the room. With a twirl, Angie went to turn up the radio. “This is from one of my favorite musicals, you know. _Holiday Inn_.”

 

“Oh? Is that the one we went to see? You have so many favorites I tend to lose track,” Peggy gently nudged her with her hip and Angie spun out and in.

 

“No, English, that was _Carousel_. Do you ever pay any attention when we go to those things?”

 

Peggy leaned her forehead against Angie’s, “I try to, but you make it rather difficult. Watching you react is much more entertaining than the show itself. Your face always lights up whenever anything happens. It’s impossible not to watch.”

 

“Oh, so you’re blamin’ me now?”

 

“Do you see another beautiful dancing woman in our home?”

 

Angie pecked her nose and giggled at the lipstick mark she had left, “Just one. Happy Anniversary, sugar.”

  
“Happy Anniversary, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Mrs. Stark refers to Howard's mother, not Maria.
> 
> Inamorata - Italian for "beloved" (roughly)
> 
> Cara - Italian for "dear"
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! This is my first published fanfic, so any feedback or comments you might have are 100% welcome. Come check out my tumblr http://lovelyauras.tumblr.com/ Happy Holidays! :)


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